Painting With RED

I marveled as the delicate drops fell against the fresh snow beneath my feet.

Not for the color, as strikingly erotic as it may be.

No.

I gawked at the scene because I knew of the temperature difference.

Watching the thick drops of warmth sink through the vibrant white powder;

it almost made me forget.

Forget about my bleeding wrists.

Made me drop my blades to the icy ground.

And relieved me of all sense of reality,

in that moment nothing existed; Except for my ruby blood and the blinding white snow.

The blood at my wrists clotted all to quickly.

Ending the cycle... Drop,Melt,Freeze.

I clasped the blade again, now icy, and hard to grasp.

I sliced longer and deeper now; I never meant for it to come to this I wanted to take it all back.

But I couldn't.

So I watched as the burning embers flooded the snow;

Until finally I was gone,

It was over.

I really didn't mean for it to happen.

But the sight enamored me.

And now I;m running, from the empty body, from what I've done, from myself, and the ones who will weep to see me gone.

I run.

Through the endless fields of white.

I run.

Then rain falls scarlet; reminding me of the atrocity I committed.

But yet I run.

Farther and farther.

I run.

And dart through the only part of me know was real.

And suddenly I was back.

No longer in my red painted fields.

Now I was in a hospital bed.

Blue wall, cold floors. I saw my family, friends; all blurry faces.

And for some horrendous reason it felt as though I lost a friend.

And so I cried.

I was sorry for what I'd done, but the tears weren't for this.

Gazing at my bandaged wrists I smiled.

The white cloth stained red.

The blood transfusion dripping dripping dripping; made me laugh.

It was just as perfect as the blood painted snow.

Looking through the window, I was not in an ordinary hospital no this was for loons, crazies, and demon ridden girls like me.

I laughed.

The white tiles starring at me with their pearly faces, begging to be painted.

Painted RED.